by Simon Rumney
At six o’clock on the next morning Endacott, one of the teammates who carried him home, returned to his room to wake him for rowing practice. Robert felt dreadful and could not motivate himself to move from the couch they had left him on the night before. Looking sympathetically at his sad friend Endacott said, “You know the rules old chap. If you can’t pull an oar you have to go to lectures.”
Robert kept his eyes closed and rolled over. “I don’t give a shit! I just can’t get up!”
Returning to a restless sleep the next words Robert heard were:
“Eight o’clock Pishiobury time to get up! Endacott said you were in a bad way but that was an understatement. You look completely buggered!”
This was a far less familiar voice. Robert opened one eye to see who was speaking and realized with great shock that it was Mr Woods his history professor who added, “Your friend young Endacott informs me that you are keen to attend a history lecture this morning. May I suggest you clean yourself up before I see you in one hour from now?”
Robert understood the trouble that he would be in if he disobeyed his professor. He toyed with the idea of going to rowing practice but the very thought of it made him feel quite ill so he cleaned himself up as best he could and wandered through the quadrangle on his way to a long and boring lecture.
“Good Lord, so you do exist,” were the sarcastic words that greeted him as he walked into the lecture theatre which he had visited on only a handful of occasions and all eyes smartly turned to look at the cause of the professor’s facetious remarks.
Robert felt his first day at Spellbrook move within him but in his weakened state he could not find the humor required to fight off his insecurity. All he could do was bow his head and follow the worn floorboard until he found a vacant seat at the back of the room. In this position he sat feeling terrible, completely unable to concentrate even though he felt sure a humiliating question would be coming his way at any moment. I am going to kill that prick Endacott! Was all he had the strength to think about.
After an hour of the most appalling hangover-filled lecture Robert began to hear almost every other word. Mr Woods, who had been delivering lectures on his much-loved history at Kings for twenty years, was talking about his visit to Rome before Bonaparte invaded and occupied Italy. “My colleagues and I spent many months in the old city and we excavated many sites.” He was speaking in his usually enthusiastic tone but he was not able to keep Robert’s attention.
“We carried out digs at the site of the Forum Romanum, The Coliseum and the Circus Maximus. We found many artifacts, few as beautiful as this one.” Mr Woods held up an object as he spoke.
As though a drug had been pumped into his body Robert’s hangover instantaneously cleared. He did not know what adrenaline was and had no idea why the gold amulet in his professor’s hands caused the hormone to be released into his body but he was sitting bolt upright in his chair with profound emotions leaping within him. Unable to take his eyes away from the object which glowed bright yellow Robert sat motionless for the balance of the lecture. At the end of the class Robert stayed in the theatre until the other students departed, then, walking to the front of the room he approached Mr Woods and asked: “May I have a closer look at your bracelet please?”
“Yes of course, Pishiobury,” replied Mr Woods. “By the way I hate to be pedantic but it is called an amulet.”
Robert took it from Mr Wood’s outstretched hand as though it were the Holy Grail itself. The moment he made contact with the golden object irrational impulses screamed at him to wear the “lions.” He instinctively knew that everything would be made clear, his sad life explained and all would be made safe but, try as he might, the gold band would not move past his knuckles. His rower’s hands were simply too big and Robert felt hopeless, frustrated and betrayed.
The kind teacher had no way of understanding what was happening to Robert but he said sympathetically, “I have to go to another lecture now. Please keep hold of the amulet and return it to my study this evening.” With that he was gone.
Saying nothing to acknowledge Mr Wood’s words Robert walked slowly backwards completely transfixed by the object in his hands. When his calf muscle connected gently with the edge of a seat he lowered himself down without a thought for what he was doing. Turning the bangle around Robert recognized every feature of the exquisitely embossed “lions” which held his attention like a vice. From somewhere deep within him tears welled and gradually he began to issue deep heartfelt sobs of purely instinctive emotion.
Many hours later Robert was disturbed by the cleaners as they moved through the theatre. As though brought out of a trance he realized that he had been staring at the heavy gold bracelet for many hours without moving. He felt sore and stiff in the places where his body made contact with the solid wooden seat so lifting himself slowly to his feet Robert left the lecture theatre and moved like a sleepwalker through the college until he arrived at the Mr Wood’s study. Still mesmerized by the amulet he knocked on the door.
“Come,” was the simple response. Mr Woods was sitting at his desk talking to Anton, a very fat Italian student.
Walking into the well-appointed rooms Robert spoke for the first time in many hours as he handed back the amulet to Mr Woods. “This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
“Yes it is remarkable isn’t it?”
“It seems so familiar to me. Is it famous? Could I have seen it somewhere before? In a book perhaps?”
“No. I am afraid that is impossible. It was only uncovered three years ago and it has been in my possession ever since.”
“Déjà vu, perhaps.” Anton sounded completely in awe of the legendary athlete.
Standing, Mr Woods offered, “May I introduce Count Anton — my benefactor in Rome.”
“Oh please,” said Anton with modesty, “it was my father who supported your excavation team in Rome.”
“Nonsense. Your help was invaluable.” Mr Woods turned to Robert and added, “Count Anton fled his family home when Bonaparte invaded, you know?”
“Really? That must have been frightening.” Robert noticed the individual beads of perspiration forming rapidly on Anton’s forehead as he spoke. It was not a particularly hot evening so Robert concluded that the thought of what was happening in his hometown provoked fear.
By way of confirming Robert’s assumption Anton said:
“It was absolutely terrifying. I got out on the last ship with moments to spare. My family are still in Rome managing as best they can.”
“Are there many more pieces like this in Rome?” asked Robert holding out the gold bracelet.
“Not that I know of. My family have been collecting artifacts from antiquity but few are as beautiful as the one you ...” Catching sight of his teacher’s quizzical expression, Anton stopped talking.
Mr Woods was staring at something projected onto the old oak paneled wall. In the flickering light given off from the candles the amulet’s shadow matched the birthmark on Robert’s wrist perfectly.
A young porter broke the silence by popping his head in to let them know the dining room was closing.
“Damn and blast!” cursed Robert. “I am absolutely famished.” His hangover and spontaneous reaction to the amulet had prevented him from eating all day and he was feeling a little faint. “Would you like to join me for dinner in town?”
Mr Woods had already eaten but the Italian boy who obviously liked his food, nodded, smiled and picked up his coat.
As they walked from the college looking for a place which still sold food at this time of the evening Robert continued the conversation about Anton’s current predicament. “What will become of your family in Italy?”
“We have been successful traders since the time before Christ. My father says that we have survived civil wars, revolutions, the fall of the Roman Empire, religious persecution and the Dark Ages. He believes that we can survive this little upstart Napoleon.”
With his interest pricked by Anto
n mentioning the Roman Empire Robert asked, “Do you think that Mr Woods will be speaking of Rome during his coming lectures?”
“Yes of course the whole foundation of history during our first year is Greek and Roman, why do you ask?”
“I will be attending more lectures, Anton. I need to find out everything there is to know about Rome.”
Walking through the narrow rain-soaked streets of Cambridge they found the tavern where so much damage had been done the night before. Opening the heavy door Robert sheepishly crossed the threshold and much to his surprise the place fell completely silent, it was though the sound of voices had been coming from outside.
All those who remembered Robert’s terrible conduct the night before stared at the couple in the doorway which made Anton extremely nervous as he was not yet aware of his new-found companion’s poor behavior.
Looking up from his work the hugely powerful landlord stopped pouring beer and made his way from the bar. As he approached Robert he looked him sternly in the eyes and said, “I don’t want any trouble tonight. It took me and the wife ages to clean up your mess last night.”
“I am deeply sorry about last night’s performance,” replied Robert wondering if the badly scarred man who possessed such huge forearms was going to harm him in some way. He could see that Anton was quite shaken by the palpable aggression of the man standing in front of them so Robert attempted to take the heat out of the situation by adding, “Please pass my heartfelt apologies to your good lady wife. There will be no a repeat of my boorish behavior I assure you.”
The landlord was obviously convinced by the Robert’s sincerity and after a moment’s hesitation said, “Apology accepted, young Sir. Come in and have another, more gentle, go at the ale?”
Unable to face the taste of beer but hungry for its effects Robert asked, “Do you have anything other than beer?”
“Wine,” said Anton. “My family is one of the largest producers of wine in Italy. You English don’t seem to like it much but it is a very good drink.” Turning to the landlord he added, “Show me your cellar. This calls for the subtlety of an Italian palate.”
With these enthusiastic words Anton innocently introduced his new friend to the latter’s next self-destructive vice.
The History of Rome
Robert attended every lecture he could and because of his inability to construct written words committed everything to memory. A compromised system of verbal testing was created to accommodate Robert’s shortcoming and his razor-sharp memory soon proved more efficient than the notes that other students were forbidden to use in exams.
The changes within him were complete and noticed by all but while the academic masters reveled in his unexpected genius the masters in charge of rowing were all very disappointed. Robert had so completely found learning that he only practiced for the many intervarsity regattas after lectures and at weekends.
He was by far the most accomplished oarsman and his loss of enthusiasm for their sport worried them greatly but try as they might none of them could entice Robert away from his new obsession.
While Robert loved all aspects of history he became particularly fascinated with the study of Rome and regularly spent hours scouring the various university libraries for books on Latin society, architecture, politics, law, commerce, medicine and war. It took a good deal of dedicated practice to overcome his reading disability but Robert’s ever-eager mind soon devised a system of liberating information from the jumble of words on the page be they in English, Greek or Latin.
While deciphering a particularly tatty old book, as he lay on the riverbank one sunny afternoon, he found himself intimately connected to a conflict called the Marsic war. Turning page after page he urgently followed the story, which commanded his attention until two printed images stopped him dead in his tracks. Robert’s heart raced as he looked at two hauntingly familiar sets of eyes staring out of the dog-eared paper. Drawing his own eyes to the bottom of the page in search of an explanation for the images, the words in italic typeface told how the prints had been taken from lithographic plates which were in turn taken from the drawings of two Roman stone carvings created in antiquity.
The faces were very faded and hard to make out but the eyes on the right and left-hand pages were still very clear. As a shadow cast over the paper Robert read the name Gaius Marius at the base of the left-hand print and Lucius Cornelius Sulla on the right. With no regard for defacing such a valuable old book, Robert felt compelled to rip out the pages.
“Arguably two of the greatest Romans who ever lived,” said the voice behind the shadow.
Looking up Robert was dazed by both the contents of the book and the sunshine in his eyes. “Anton?” he said, recognizing his classmate. “Tell me all you know about them?”
“Family legend has it our benefactor was extremely close to General Sulla.” Anton slowly maneuvered his heavy body to the ground as he added, “As for Gaius Marius, I have no more knowledge than is printed in the history ...” Anton’s words simply tapered off. The book lying on the riverbank had caught his full attention.
Puzzled, Robert followed Anton’s eyes to the page and found himself looking directly into the etching of a beautifully carved marble bust of himself. It was as though a stone mirror had been placed in front of him and Robert could not comprehend the bizarre feelings it provoked within.
Both gazed unspeaking at the bust with its unusual crown of olive leaves and cloak clasp of wheat and grape vines.
Anton read the carved name at its base: “Gaius Marius the Younger.” And with this exchange, the young men began a deep bond with a mutual love of Rome as its foundation.
As they got to know each other better, Robert learned that Anton’s family had been trading commodities for nearly two thousand years. The family founder was also known as Anton, or Antonius as the name was pronounced in classical times.
The family had not sent him to Cambridge solely to get away from the French occupation. Like all good traders they instinctively knew when a worthwhile deal was in the offing. They had been developing markets in up-and-coming nations since the time of their founder.
Commerce was in their blood and they believed that England was about to become an even greater industrial nation. Anton’s father wanted him to become familiar with the English mentality because he believed that once the British army beat Napoleon there would be a great deal of bartering to be done and money to be made.
Not a day went by without Robert spending time with Anton, or Antonius as he was known in Rome. Robert would borrow the amulet from Mr Woods and study each golden detail of the “lions” as his companion recounted magnificent stories from antiquity. He had such a wonderfully broad understanding of history and Robert positively craved information about Rome in particular. It felt like the city was calling to him, just as the sirens called the Argonauts in one of Anton’s stories.
Studying together Robert learned the tactics of two of the greatest generals of their time and felt he understood Marius and Sulla intimately. As he read the historic accounts of their battles he noticed the similarity between the tactics of Napoleon’s Grand Army and the Roman legions.
When he compared the published reports of Bonaparte’s battles with the chronicles of the past he understood how the subtle tactics of great Roman generals were now being employed on the battlefields of Europe. Arthur Wellesley had been correct with his advice that fighting a war was a science which could be learned. History can teach a great deal about the moves of one’s opponent.
As he became intimate with every aspect of Roman conflicts Robert found an unexplained phenomenon while studying pre-Christian Rome. Reading about the struggle between Marius and Sulla felt like he was there with them, yet anything after that time felt like nothing more than being an observer. Robert read as many books as he could find about other periods in Roman history but nothing sparked the same emotions as Marius and Sulla.
During his half-term break he asked his mother if she had ever read t
o him about Gaius Marius or Sulla as a child. She had never even heard of either man so that couldn’t be the reason for his feelings of intimacy.
Robert searched his father’s vast library but none of the gold leaf words on the pale brown spines of the beautifully leather-bound books fitted his criteria. Some of them contained Roman history but they were all concerned with Imperial Rome which meant none of them dealt with the Republic — the time before Christ.
While carefully leafing through the books Robert found only two which triggered memories. One was a reference to Julius Caesar which seemed vaguely familiar and the other was an English translation of Homer’s Iliad which prompted the same passionate feelings as Marius and Sulla. Robert asked if he could keep the old book and of course, his father agreed.
Lord and Lady Pishiobury were delighted by the reports of Robert’s newfound academic achievement. Both they and Nanny heaved a collective sigh on behalf of their wonderful son. They did not understand the power Rome held over Robert but they relished the fact that his interest had changed his long term plans.
All thoughts of joining the army seemed to be replaced by his complete fascination with history and it was their wishful hope that Robert’s obsession with the detective work which he was allowing to become his entire life would last until at least the defeat of Bonaparte.
Learning on the Riverbank
The year was 1811 and Robert turned eighteen. His body was incredible to look at because it had been molded by years of working at the oars. He had a wonderful face, piercing brown eyes and a full head of the same color brunet hair as his mother. All in all he was a very good-looking boy who was very sought after by society mothers.